


And If So

by Glock_Talk



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Forgot smut tag sorry, Its like a massive part of this, Maternal issues, Not responsible for any tears, Plot With Porn, Probably shouldn't forget that, Sensitive topics?, Smut, adultery AU, make y'all suffer a little, marriage AU, pregancy AU, probably not a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15568710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glock_Talk/pseuds/Glock_Talk
Summary: After the excitement and frenzy of Pyeongchang, the rage of Scott and Tessa's relationship dies down in the many years to follow but old habits die hard. Both find solitude and relief within one another through acts that one describes should not take place in their dynamic yet neither can resolve this. Once Tessa settles down with a successful banker and starts her own 'family' with him while Scott struggles to settle down, little warning signs from years before begin to pop up. It's only a small time till the media notice...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yada yada yada me no write rpf bla bla don't care. Keep your nose out Ms T xx

"I know you don't like him, but this is my life and it's not your choice."

\---

Her blade was ever as effortless. Her arms ever as graceful. Her face; beautiful. To him, she had no flaws. Sure she wasn't 'perfect' by definition, 5 am practices for God knows how many years were evident of that, but she certainly was excellent. From the way her spotless apartment was perfectly laid out, to her meticulous and perfect hair and makeup, to her perfect scheduling for anything and everything. To him, she was as perfect now, standing in his arms and sobbing profusely, as she did 25 or so years ago. His Tessa: his best friend, his partner, his soulmate. She could do him no wrong in his eyes, regardless of their past and now present. It was all his faults by default. So standing here, with her centre ice, somehow he believed this was his fault. A voice. At the back of his head wondered, "his?".

 

"I told you, no one really will notice that we're keeping it low-key this year,"

They walked, side by side to his home rink, over the brown covered slush on the sides of the roads, opting for boots and not trucks. The layer of black ice shone on the mid morning sun light, halting even the snow ploughs from working. The snow fall had ceased, leaving little traction on the slanted sidewalk.

Placing her hands further into her pockets, she sighed heavily into her scarf protecting her nose. "I know. It's just now that we're not in the spotlight, I just feel like we should be trying harder to stay relevant."

"Why?" He looked over, slowing down at the end of the curb and testing the shiny slag road. "I like my life right now, I'm happy with where we are and what we do. Aren't you happy?"

She hesitates, thinking over the multiple ways she's answered this question in her head over the last few months. She never landed on a yes or no. Even when Kevin's wife caught up with her, she couldn't bare to lie to her, her family who she lost too many years with.  
He noticed. "Tess, what is it?" She breathed heavily. Letting him open the doors to the quiet rink, she went to reply, yet nothing came out. 

"Is it work? School? Kate? Ja-" she looked away. Swallowing hard and rubbing his bare palms together, he followed after her as she entered their rink. She smiled as she was greeted by the loving woman in front of her. 

"How is my lovely girl?" Carol squeezed out of her. Tessa arguably squeezed back harder, clinging onto her for dear life. "Still very much alive,"  
"No thanks to my nephew, I'm sure,"

Both women pulled away, Tessa slightly more reluctant. Scott walks over and places a kiss upon her cheek and claims their private slot for 30 mins on the ice that they have everyday they're in town and free. 

Although he argues that this isn't another post-Sochi, in many ways it is. They don't skate or see each other everyday, they talk for bursts and then nothing, and they see other people. Yes it didn't start like this, and yes they did promise that it wouldn't happen again, but Scott can't help but think that this new distance is so similar. Although they meet up and have dinner or lunch together 3 times a week, and keep a text conversation going for weeks without either needing to say "hello" or "goodbye" and can keep it going smoothly, and they occasionally find themselves in awkward yet tempting situations that neither want to address first. This is nothing like the life they planned out 5 years ago but they're not in much of a position to change things drastically without there being severe reproductions. 

But skating laps around his home ice, the ice he first took her hand, on a cold Sunday morning was all he wanted. The noise of the under 11's boys hockey team had died off and he took this time to initiate conversation. Throwing his fingers roughly through his hair, "You still on for Christmas Eve dinner?" She nods. "Leanne and her boys coming it this year?" He nods. Silence falls over again. Half a lap and an aeon later, he speaks up again.  
"Tess-"  
"Scott-" they speak at the same time. "No no, you go first," She breathed heavily knowing he'd always say that when she was like this. "Scott, I don't know what to say."  
"Is it about James?" She nods after a few moments, her hand visibly and physically tense in his. He knew things had been rough between the two of them recently, otherwise she wouldn't have confined herself to him not to long ago, but things did seem on the rise and they did seem to be working it out. "I swear Tess, if he dare-"  
"No it's not that. I just don't know how to tell you," She swallowed before crossing over before him. After completing the rest of the lap in silence, she forces herself to speak up.  
"We're…we're moving in together..." He stops skating, letting the momentum of his last push and her hand guiding him keep him from stopping suddenly.  
"Because…because..." Her mouth was dry, she dropped his hand and turned towards the centre of the rink as her eyes tear up. He followed, slowly making his way to her. She had stopped with her back towards him, 

"Say something Scott," He took her arm and turned her to face him. "You know what I'm going to say."  
"Yes I know but I need you to support me, and this isn't even the part I'm worried to tell you."

"Tessa, you've never moved in with a guy before and you know how I feel about him,"  
He huffed taking both of his hands the same way he had for years when he was overwhelmed or scared. "You've been together for how long!? 9 months?"

"10 actually."

"9, 10, so what. My point is is that I don't understand why you're putting so much into this when you and I both can see it's not worth it," His hands tense at every word he speaks, squeezing hers more and more. 

"Just don't raise your voice, please." He looks away to avoid it from looking like he rolled his eyes. She squeezes on his fingers to get him to look back at her and he does.  
"Scott, what we're doing...it needs to stop. For serious this time. Things are going to be different now 'cause-"

"'Cause yeah, I get it. You go and have your perfect life, with your very much not-perfect boyfriend!" 

He swings his hands in the air, fingers stiffening as he waves them in front of her.  
"I actually can't believe you. We agreed that what we do together is nothing personal and has no repercussions. That you never wanted to feel uncomfortable and now...now you just want to put an end to a 20 year cycle?" 

The slight look of hurt flushes though her eyes and he sees it. Ever since their comeback of 2016, he learnt to deal with his anger, especially with Tessa and especially on the ice but it's not 2016 anymore and he certainly isn't feeling just anger. 

"God!" He circles her. "You don't even sleep in the same bed!" He circles again. "His mother hates you!" His hands grip the sides of his hair. "I can't stand being in the same room as him!" 

He stops in front of her staring her in her straight in the eyes. Her gorgeous green eyes. That we're so small yet so large. Her pupils very much small and scared, surrounded by a sea of red.  
"You told me that this wasn't serious, that you don't think he's the one. His ego is as big as his bank account and don't get me started on his friends and mother. Jordan's met him once, he's only bothered to visit London once, forgot your birthday and is back wherever the fuck he is getting so fucking drunk in the spirit of Christmas!" 

He paces the ice, digging his toe pick into the ice as he spits his list of reasons Tessa's new significant other is unsuitable. 

"I know things have been rough, and I know what we've been throwing on the side doesn't help your conscious, but I don't care because I love what we do and I love that no one has to know our dirty secret. Tess, I tell you this with all my heart, don't move in with him. In fact...leave him, end it all,"  
His hands take hers, one by one, holding them up to his cheeks after kissing each knuckle and ridge made up on her hand.  
"Move back closer to home where your family is, where you're loved for every inch of you..."

"...you say that as if it's so easy, Mr. I-just-bought-a-five-bed-manor-in-Montreal." He winces at her comeback. She takes back her hands and crosses her arms, breaking eye contact. 

"Scott, our communication isn't up to par because of that relapse. This is why it's coming to you as much of a shock as it will be when the press get their filthy hands on it."

"On what? Tess?" Her hand grips her trembling mouth, looking to the side, he sees a spec of silver catch in the energy saver lights overhead. A muffled sob breaks from her throat, one he hasn't heard since she told him about her surgery over 14 years ago. One where he knows it's more than what she says at face value. He scoops her up into his arms, pushing his nose into her hair and kissing her forehead. Listening to her cries, even when she exclaims, "No, you'll freak out." And ignoring her weak and pointless attempts to push him away.

Eventually her breathing steadies and they sync. Her head resting firmly against his chest and arms weakly gripping his sides, reluctant for the embrace but grateful nevertheless. "He proposed..." Her voice breaks. His arms, no matter how much he desperately wanted to fight the pain, they still tensed and she still noticed. He let out a heavy breath, one he held for too long, and kissed her forehead again. They stood like that, letting the silence engulf them in the empty rink. "...and I said yes." 

It wasn't long till she began to cry again; this time, although muffled by his jacket, he could hear her wail louder and louder than before. One she only reserved for mourning or grief. It reminded him of April 2008, hearing the news of her grandmothers passing and how he held her all the way through the church service and burial as she wept and wept. She hardly cried. Sure she's shed a single tear now and then when watching a movie on her couch or looking through old photos albums in her mother's attic; and sure she may and cried when she held her first nephew or when she saw the last of her siblings say their 'I do's; and sure she sobbed when Kaitlyn told her she was finally getting married or when she saw Kaetlyn graduate top of her class the summer after she skated at the Olympics. And he was there to see it all - there by her side when a tear would fall - and the media called him the emotional one. 

Scott needed to know, he couldn't stand to see her cry in pain and sorrow than in happiness in arguably the most happiest moments of a woman's life - regardless of the fact her lifelong partner hated her fiancé's guts. "Why?"  
She breathed slowly, a sigh getting caught every few moments. "It's far more complicated than you realise." He listens, waiting and waiting, not caring that he won't understand but just wanting her to talk her pain away. "It'll be a small event, this spring. It's because his family is religious and thinks we should keep it in wedlock,"

He tense at the thought of her being given away in less than 5 months. Let alone someone else's family decide the reasons behind the push but he stays quiet, not interrupting or arguing 'why?' over and over again. She coughs, struggling to say the next of her monologue. "It's so I won't look so big and we can keep it all a secret..."

A secret? Secret?

"Scott..." She sobs, her shoulders shaking, fingers gripping, head burying itself further in his chest.

"...I'm pregnant."


	2. Chapter 2

"Will they understand? At least to the point that it wasn't exactly planned or my first choice?"

...

The Moirs were like her second family. No. They were her family, period. She has been invited to every birthday party, every wedding, every cook-out (et cetera et cetera), for the last 24 years. Both her mother and his cook her favourite meal every time she visits, both her brothers and his tease and maintain the overprotective roll, both her fathers cat and his hide on the same windowsill every time the nieces and nephews visit. She loved the similarities and how now matter where she was, she felt at home. 

For the last 15 years they would alternate Christmas Eve dinner. One year at his mothers, one year at hers. They'd joke every time that when they're grey and old they'll still be keeping up this tradition. It let her sit and play with all his brothers children and help his mother chop the veg for dinner under one roof. It let him walk her brother's dog and set the table under hers too. 

Although she had always considered the Moirs to be her family's family, their Christmas traditions stated on the eve. Presents and stockings opened on the 24th, chapel and mass on the 25th. Two sets of Turkeys, two excited mornings and night time stories, and two sets of Christmas cracker injuries. It wasn't until they moved to Montreal that she missed their odd doings. Meanwhile her family did what she saw as normal: one set of presents and gifts on Christmas Day, one Christmas lunch at 3pm and one late Christmas naps carried out by her brothers and brother-in-law. 

She always enjoyed the even years, the day spent with the Moirs fulfilled her stupid fantasy of one day being Scott's official plus one. Not his partner or the daughter Alma never had, but as his whatever they were once and still are. 

"Do you know where the mint sauce is? I thought it would be-"  
"Oh Joe used the last of it, there's a new one in the pantry."

Tessa sat on the backs of her heels searching the cupboard under the cutlery. Occasionally she would get waves of nausea and if she had to suddenly leave to the bathroom, Alma doesn't say anything. On the second time she made a break for toilet, Charlie had stopped her, asking for her take on what Christmas movie they should put on after dinner. With the back of her palm up to her mouth, her hand clutching her stomach, she just nods and pushes past him. If he heard her throw any existence of her breakfast up, he doesn't tell anyone. Rubbing slow circles on the small of her back, no words exchanged, he lets her wash her mouth out in silence after leaving to slip her some Pepto-Bismol tablets. 

She fished her hand on she shelf above her head, picking up odd cans and jars, reading the label and placing it back when it's not the item she's searching for. Spotting a small step to the side, she opens and steps on the highest incline, tiptoeing to search for the green jar. Not too long after catching the shiny label hidden at the back, she feels a pair of arms wrap around the backs of her knees. Letting out a yelp, she grabs onto his shoulders.

"Scott!" She whisper-shouts. Her loose hair tickling his chin as he looks up at her. It's still long, he wonders when she'll get around to chopping it like she often promotes when having a bad hair day. She sat on his toned forearms, legs sheathed between them and his abdomen. It takes her a moment to realise why he had opted to holding her under her behind and not her usual waist.  
"Please Tess, you need to be more careful."  
"Careful? I'm perfectly fine. What's not is you grabbing me like this."  
"I..."

His eyes dash away from hers, searching the surroundings of the small dark pantry and her chest for his reply.   
"You hate him, why are you more protective than him over this?"   
She indicates to her stomach. He sighs, dropping his head and kissing her stomach quick at first, but slowly the second time. His lips lingering on her red chiffon dress. She feels her eyes tear up, dropping her lips to his hair line and giving him an equally long kiss.   
"I'm sorry Scott..." She whispers. "I'm sorry."

She understood how this broke him. For the last two years, the plan and expectation would have been that Scott was the one to find 'the one', get married and have 2 1/2 kids by this point. But he never had a relationship that lasted more than 4 months. He was in it for marriage, they were in it for his name. Recently he got out of another relationship, 3rd one this year. Meanwhile Tessa was expected to casually date for God knows how many years, eventually get married and probably refuse to have children. She was more concerned on creating and maintaining her brand and she'll become a regular mid-thirty bachelorette by some point. She knew how much he wanted children, how he wanted the white picket fence life. She knew deep down how she had once promised him that when they were younger. 

"Tessa." His voice cutting through the silence. She knew by the tone he was sobered up and serious and by the lack of a nickname.  
"Be honest with me now. Is this baby m-"  
"No."  
Her voice as raw as her throat dry. Her hands which had migrated to his hair at his nape, holding him against the place his lips last laid. Her hands were shaking, holding him like a lifeline.  
"...no. I don't know."   
She whispered, letting her forehead rest in the top of his. Squeezing her eyes shut, gritting her teeth, scrunching her nose up.

"I don't know, Scott. I don't know." He felt his hair gradually getting wetter as her body shook. He sighed, kissing her nonexistent bump over and over again. Her fingers, looped through his long hair, gripped harder. Her body slowly trembling. He in turn held her closer and harder to him. He knew by the way her thumb and index finger played with his baby hairs that she was nervous. Her fiddling tendencies often projected onto him over the years and in this moment in time, he was glad he knew. Slowly placing her down, with his feet facing hers, he engulfed her into a hug. Her head resting in the crook of his neck, she slowly calmed down. Their breathing synced.

"Have you told your family?" She nods, giving him a little hum. It takes her a moment to speak up again.  
"They're happy. Surprised but happy. Dad's disappointed but that's a whole different story." He gave her kiss to her hair line. Hearing the chatter of children from outside in the other room, the door opens.  
"Woah, sorry. Just here to get a tin of beans." Danny spoke up. 

"Top shelf by the light switch." He nods and quickly makes his way out of the dark room leaving the two in silence.

"I'm assuming you'll tell them." He gave a half hearted laugh. She smiled into his neck and faces him. "Of course." She croaks out. Her voice dry from her many tears shed. Her makeup hardly moved. Apart from the absence of her once pinky lipstick she removed after she last went to the toilet, she looked almost the same as when she arrived late morning. But you could slightly see the dark bags that sat beneath her eyes, her slowly hollowing cheeks, her pale freckles under her heavy foundation. He knew she hasn't been sleeping too well and how although she's had her mothers cooking for the last two weeks, she hasn't been eating too well (more the fact that she hasn't been keeping anything down). 

"I've been trying to tell Alma, it's just hard to get the conversation started."  
"She'll be thrilled Tess."  
"I know, it's just hard to tell a woman who's been my second mother that I potentially could be caring her grand-"  
Her bottom lip began to tremble with each word and she buried her head in his neck. Considering she's always wanted the day to come where her life fell into place with all her old school friends or anyone else she knew in the community, she didn't want it to be like this. 

She's struggled to understand where she stood on the maternal scale. She hadn't ever been in a stable long term relationship that's made her want to have children so she's gone most her adult life believing she doesn't want children. But she's great with kids, she loves her siblings children, she could see herself having miniature versions of her and Scott. Scott. That was what she was both scared of and happiest most for. 6 weeks ago (maybe 7?) there was the relapse. Neither spoke of it since yet she worries of the inevitable conversation that will follow. But any thoughts that the dates could line up need to be pushed to the back of her head. 

Once she had once calmed down again, she lifts her head back up and wipes under her eyes. His eyes fully catching sight of the diamonds on her left hand. 

She had told his family the week before - a day after she told him, yet she had withheld the even bigger information. Largely due to Alma being as hysterical (like she was when Charlie told her he got engaged). For some reason, telling her about the cluster of cells in her womb was harder than justifying to her why she's marrying a man who is yet to meet her.

She had kept the ring in the bottom zip of her suitcase, trying to forget it but after the other Tessa insisted on her to wear it at the dinner, it's the longest she's ever worn it. It's too big and bulky. It's the sort of ring a trophy wife wears, where she can't lift her finger. Literally and figuratively. It's only been 2 hours and it's already gotten caught in Danny's sweater and tangled in her hair. She can't wait to hide it at the bottom of her cupboard as soon a she sets foot out of the house. 

"Hey, listen. Everything will be fine Tess, trust me. She'll be overjoyed no matter what, same for everyone else."

She nods and he kisses her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth. He knew their new boundaries, even after not discussing it. 

...

"Could one of you pass the potatoes."

Alma knelt on the ground with her oven mitts on. The kitchen was at its busiest with both brothers picking about for snacks as dinner was almost made. Two of the grandchildren were following her sons around, complaining 'but I'm hungry dad!'. Her two daughters in law were helping her cook while Tessa sat up on the breakfast bar stool finishing her assigned job of mixing the gravy. 

Tessa went to stand to help lift the tray beside her before Cara cut in and picked it up for her. She had a baby on her hip. A little boy, around 5 months. He had refused to be put down for a nap, so his groggy behaviour and grizzly attitude was making him wriggle and groan.

"No no, I'm not doing anything, let me take it."

She stood up to protest but by the time she had her reply, Alma had already received the baking tray. She turned on her heal and looked back at her.   
"Well if you're not doing anything, mind watching this one?"

Before she could react, a baby was sat on her and her mother was whisked back to the oven. Her eyes were wide, baby at arms length while she wriggled on her knee. With his fist in his mouth, he grizzled at her.

Once Tessa realised what happened, she began to bounce him up and down on her leg. Eventually he stopped complaining and took both hands in fists and grabbed the bottom of her hair. Anticipating the pull, she carefully took his hands away.

The room felt quiet, at least quieter than it was before. Looking up, she spots Alma staring at her. It would be the perfect moment to tell her but suddenly the whole speech she planned out had disappeared out of her head. 

"Alma, I..." 

Her chest suddenly felt very heavy. Her throat too dry to talk sense. She bit her bottom lip before breaking eye contact, searching the floor. The baby began to grizzle on her lap once again and she took it as her queue to leave. "Try putting him down for a nap for me please."  
She stood up, holding the child firmly in her arms and made her way to the door.

Pacing up and down the hallway, his eyes grew heavy, eventually giving into the tempting urge to sleep. Leaning over the side of the travel cot, she placed the boy carefully down, reluctant to rouse him. She carefully untangles her loose curls from his fat fists when a quiet voice disturbs the silence.

"You'll be a great mother, you know."

She looks up staring back at him. Stepping into the room, she breaks away from his contact. Looking around the guest bedroom, searching for an answer, she feels his hand on her arm which migrates to her waist. 

"Scott." She whispers, slowly bringing herself to looking at him again. He watches her as she takes his hand and slowly plays with it.  
"Tessa, what if it is?" 

She places his hand on her abdomen. Although the baby is hardly the size of a blueberry, the fact that the next 18 years of their lives, regardless of the father, will be occupied by the bean beneath his hand.   
"9 weeks."  
"9 weeks?"   
She swallows hard. "At 9 weeks and the baby will be eligible for the paternity test."

His palm rubbed small circles on her stomach, closing his eyes and imagining his whole world in front of him. Both under his hands. She lightly pressed her one hand on top of his, guiding him around and around. Her other hand moved slowly up his body and it resided on his cheek.  
"Scott, I don't think I can do this." He dropped his head to hers; foreheads lightly pressing. "What will you do if it's mine?"

He felt her eyes burn into his skin, quickly regretting asking that and not wanting to know. Before he can retract his question, she speaks up.   
"If the baby's yours, it's yours."  
Her voice began to break more and more as she carried on. He kissed her cheeks, slowly moving around her face. To her nose, to her forehead, to the edges to her lips. She let out a small giggle as his kisses became more playful, quickly knowing how to cheer her up.   
"Hey, I came to tell you dinner's ready. We should pop back down. I think we should talk about this properly when we're back in Montreal."   
She nods, rising to her tip toes. Slowly, ever so slightly, she brushed her lips on his and left. Just like once upon a time. 

...

"Ma, sit down. We have enough to fill us for a year." Charlie pulled her from the kitchen, holding another bottle of wine, the nth of the day already. She took centre seat at the head of the table, while his father took the opposite seat from her. Thankfully all children sat on the table below, any child incapable of sitting still was occupied and the eldest, Charlie's 11 year old, held a strict dictatorship over his siblings and cousins. 

The son had stolen the alcohol from her hands and took it upon him to pour everyone's glasses. Joe kept complaining to Sherrie about how he recently planted a third apple tree this year and doesn't think it'll last through this blizzard. Tessa, not taking any attention to the old man's ramblings is suddenly caught off guard when he addresses her.   
"Sorry, what was that?"  
"I said, how did your mother get her grape vines to survive the winter?"

She plays with the edge of her napkin, suddenly very out of her depth. "Not entirely sure, but I think it's quite sheltered during the storms this time of year." 

Suddenly very relieved that the conversation had mutated from seasonal fruit grown in their back gardens to whatever dance recitals Charlotte is up to. 

"Tessa, honey, you haven't touched your wine. It's the sweet one your mom got us."

Looking past her very much picked at meal and feeling tremendously guilty of the time and effort wasted on her plate, she notices her glass still full while everyone else on their second. She's never been much of a drinker, a glass now and then in the evenings with a good book is usually her limit, especially since she retired. Her greatest fear was becoming an alcoholic after retirement; that or her suddenly stumped for any motives in her life but that's past the point. Ever since she found out, it didn't cross her mind about how much she was consuming. Her mother and sister found out long before she saw them for Christmas break and conveniently opted for a cup of cocoa in the evenings and not breaking in the old rosé in the basement. 

"Are you feeling too well? You're pale?" She whispers, suddenly embarrassed that she brought her attention of the entire table towards her. All 15 others crowded around a 12 chair dining table. 

"In fact, I guess I'll take the moment to...announce something? So I...um...I'm pregnant."

There's a beat of silence. Then two. Then she regrets telling them. Was it badly timed? Had Scott completely misread how his family would react? She slowly sank further into her mahogany seat, feeling 30 sets of eyes burn into her.

But then an outpour of cheer and celebration upraises. Alma of course is the first one to hug her, followed by a fight between his brothers (Danny wins) to hug and kiss her next. If one of her families were apprehensive, she's glad her other family is overjoyed.

They all sit in the living room, with the old exposed red brick fireplace burning and grandchildren playing, she sat bundled up between Alma and Scott. The two ladies wrapped in an old plaid blanket she got her from Scotland in 2015 while everyone nursed an evening cup of eggnog. One of the grandchildren sat between the two with an old 'goodnight moon' in her hands. Listening to the younger woman quietly and softly narrates the story before she'll eventually be whisked off to an early bedtime. She weaved her fingers slowly through the Moir girls hair, "Goodnight stars. Goodnight air. Goodnight noises everywhere."

Alma lead off the last of the 'little' grandchildren and she sat back into Scotts embrace. They all watched the old rerun of the grinch: laugh periodically, flip off Danny who makes occasional kissing noises at them, and wake Joe up when he begins to snore. 

And if she feels like her life couldn't be any more perfect in this point and time, she doesn't say anything.

And if Scotts hand, under the blanket, rubs small, soft circles on her stomach and whispers, "Yep, you'll be a great mom." then no one needs to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya soooo that's that. So this chapter is of course longer than the pilot, largely because this isn't a pilot. But it sort of is. I guess if y'all like these first few chapters then I'll fully commit to a schedule and word count but until then then, enjoy.
> 
> Oh ya, English is also my second (technically 4th) language. Soooo sos babes.
> 
> All kudos and comments are much loved and appreciated soooo thanks xxx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya sorry for what you're about to read. Might idk, piss (?) people off or bring a little too much angst to this in the near future. Ya sooo that's that, enjoy
> 
> And ya so smut warning?

"How much can I let myself love you without letting myself not love me."

...

"You should cover up more, I don't want you getting cold during the fireworks,"

He threw her another sweater from his bottom draw. A forth options. Catching it with one hand, she walked over to his bed. Flipping it around in her hand, examining the soft fleece. She sat on the edge, shuffled her coat off, running her fingers over the old roots jacket. It was cold, absolutely freezing, yet her thick thermal tights and coat kept her quite insulated so no need to fuss.

She took the old jacket, quickly pulling it on and swiftly putting her coat back on top. Yes, the heating was on, it was the breeze from his ensuite's open window that chilled her. The sudden ability to be sensitive to the temperature made everything inconvenient.

"I have plenty of layers now, thank you. You can take your hoodies back,"  
"Tess, it's like minus ten degrees. At least take this scarf."

She sighed, ignoring his last plead, and pulled her black pea coat back over her dress.

Suddenly the sensation of warm cotton being wrapped around her neck forced her to spin around on her seat. Grabbing his hands and giggling as he fights to wrap the knitting around her, he pushes her back onto the bed. Kissing her crook as he fights her fidgeting hands, she bucks her hips, attempting to move him from straddling her. _Oh_. They stop.

"Scott,"  
"Tess, I'm sorry." He sits back up on his calfs. Running a hand through his hair (it's longer now, even though he had a trim not too long ago), he sighed. Tessa let out a puff of hot air, grabbing him by the lapels of his smart coat and pulling him back down onto hers, forcing the distance between their lips to decease. His hands quickly reach for her hips. Even with the thick fabric of her navy dress, he could feel the heat radiating off her. Maybe he was wrong that she needed to cover up more. The smell of her vanilla body lotion clashing with his musk he had last Christmas from her, felt strangely homely. The noise of clatter and havoc downstairs and outside felt muted. The taste of her lips felt overdue. They needed this. She bucked up her hips, grazing them against his; asking for more. The way he nibbled on her bottom lip and dug his fingers into her hips, set her alight. His hands begin to wander down, as did his lips. Bitting his way down her neck, over every freckle he memorised years before, he listens to her wispy breaths hitch at his fingers whereabouts. Her hands in turn reach for his hair, running though and grabbing the sections towards the nape. Suddenly his hands shoot up and grab her fists. Looking at her dead in the eye, he sighs, carefully placing them back down by her head. He stayed like that for longer than he should have and second guesses himself.

"Tess..."

He breathed. Looking into her dark green eyes, reading her manuscript of freckles, watching the moonlight play with her silky lips.

"God this is harder than I thought,"  
"Well it is a lot to just go from what it was before to nothing. Let's take this one step at a time,"  
"I know, I know..." He sighs, feeling the urge to sit up and create distance but something kept him from moving. It was her.

"It's just. We...we've done this so much recently and I don't even know if I can touch you the same way again,"  
"Scott. If you're confused as to if I'm allowed to have _it_ then I'll have you know hardly any pregnant woman can keep herself in total abstinence,"  
She brought his chin to face her again, not realising he had been staring at everything but her.

"Oh thank god!"

His face lit up, bending down to kiss her immediately. Slipping a hand to the back of her neck, bringing her closer than she already could possibly be.

Pulling away, she murmured, "But not now. I've been spotting," her hand running through his hair.

"Spotting?" It came from his mouth slowly, as if he was still processing the foreign word as he was answering. His eyebrows furrowed. His face submitting to panic. The muscles in his jaw clenching. "Tessa?"  
"Don't worry, don't worry,"

She took his face in her hands, cupping his red cheeks. Thankful she took her engagement ring off as soon as she got off her most recent FaceTime with her fiancé an hour before, otherwise the amount of times it would have caught on his woollen scarf, jumper, coat or hair would be catastrophic. His lips went to form a " _don't worry? Don't worry!?_ ", as his mind began to sum up every reason as to need to worry.

"I went to the doctor the other week, it's fine. She said no intercourse for the next two weeks but it's almost over, any day now."

She smiled at him. His body still in a state of panic didn't know how to respond. She pulls him down by the cheeks and joins their noses together. Keeping the silence necessary, he struggled to process such heavy information. She takes his one free hand and slides it down her open coat, from her curled hair, across her significantly larger chest, to land on where the pea sized baby lay. He knows her well (considering his job for almost 75% of his life has been to know her), what she likes and dislikes, hates and loves but this may be the most unexpected experience with her that he knew from the first moment that she loved. She tilted his face for her to kiss every crevice: his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, his forehead. He massaged carefully where he or she sat, waiting for the day he can feel their kicks, hear their heart beat, hold their little body; regardless of the father because any form of Tessa he will love unconditionally.

"So baby's okay?" She nods, "Yes, baby's okay."

...

"I'm so glad we opted for a small New Years party this year,"  
"This is small?"

Jordan laughed, refilling her third glass of prosecco of the night. Well morning. January 1st, 00:56am. By this point, most of the 'small' gathering of Moirs had ran off to go play pickup hockey on the main road under the few fireworks still alight, attempting to not catch hypothermia while stone cold drunk and hardly covered up.

Most of the visitors that weren't family had opted to making their way home. The wind was picking up and it had began to snow heavier by the minute so unless they planned on staying, they left.

Only the wives, daughters and virtue women sat around in the kitchen, chatting away and passing time.

"...and what about you Tess? Come sit down,"  
"Pardon?"  
"We were talking about this wedding!" Michele chimed, bringing her hand up to rest her chin on. The ladies looked around the table at her, still wearing the old roots jacket Scott lent (gave) her. It was the 3rd time she's gone to the toilet in the last hour. " _Damn bladder_ ". But of course, she was just glad her milestones were somewhat linking up with what she was reading, regardless of the small bump she was experiencing. She was the only woman there nursing a hot chocolate and the only one yet to have her wedding and baby.

"Oh yes, we've decided the date. April 30th. So I'll be...26 weeks?"

She squinted her eyes, thinking back to all the notes she made last week on the two hour FaceTime with her now fiancé.

"Close to 6 months so, big but not too big," She said, wrapping her fingers around her lukewarm mug she watched the mothers begin to reminisce.

"Oh and you'll be getting no sleep past that point,"  
"And terrible headaches,"  
"Stupidly high blood pressure,"  
"I had back pains by then,"  
"And swelling,"  
"If it's Moir you'll get Braxton Hicks by then,"

Her mouth dropped at Jordan's last comment. She brought her hand up to smack her sister in the arm, harder than needed but still needed. She winced and hid herself under Aunt Carol's embrace as she playfully protected her from the hormonal pregnant lady.

"Jord!...Mom," she cried. Looking to her mother for support, waiting for her to discipline her elder child. Instead she laughed and sipped her wine. Shrugging her shoulders and giving her a  _well she's not really wrong/what can I do?_  look, Tessa looked away to see the whole table sniggering away, afraid to let out the same boisterous laugh as Jordan.

"Too soon little sis?"  
"Yes. No I mean, you can't say that!" She sighed, slapping her with each word to enunciate her point. She stayed firmly under the protectors arms. Confused as to what to say, she sat there still with her mouth wide open.

"Well she's not wrong," Sheri added in resulting in Tessa rolling her eyes.

"Both of mine were kicking away by week 14, no wonder they were early. Couldn't and still can't keep them from moving,"  
"Thinking about it, all Moir baby's have been early,"  
"What?" Tessa is quick to wanting more. She opens her mouth to ask but she's stopped by the thoughts that cross her mind of _her_ family's history with pregnancy. Her nana becoming infertile after her first. Her mother having two miscarriages before Casey. Jordan struggling for well over a year to conceive. Kevin's wife, Meagan, having a tremendously bad labor due to complications. Each baby born seemed to have a unique way of getting around to joining them. Heck, she gave her mother a horrendous post birth recovery. But the thought that this could be hers and Scotts baby, not only scared her at first but now worried her even more now.

"Oh yes. Danny was 38 weeks, Charlie 36 and Scott 34. A real scare I remember,"  
"We hadn't even set up the nursery!"

Tessa felt her heart rate increase. She knew she was lucky to get pregnant so quickly, especially after many of her female ex-competitors brought their pains to her in dire need. First it was Tanith, crying to her in the locker room after she had her results back from that her hormones were too irregular and could damage her fallopian tubes. Then it was Meryl, who in a drunken slur one movie night, poured her heart out about how she struggled to come to terms she wouldn't ever be a mother because she was scared to ruin her figure (news flash: she was wrong). Later it was Anna, who tried for 4 years with her husband to conceive, eventually going down the IVF route. Now Kaitlyn, constantly chattering about how he can't wait to have her own 'little ones', ignoring the fact she hasn't had a period since worlds two seasons ago.

She felt as if she didn't deserve this baby, that this didn't feel real until people who made her feel special made her want to deserve it. Him, her, it? 'Baby,' she settled on. "Baby's due,". "Baby's kicking,". "Baby's here,". She didn't care what pronoun or gender the baby will become, as long as baby's healthy and happy, then she'll be too.

"Tessa, you listening?"

She's brought out of her daze, suddenly remembering there's a whole conversation revolving around what she's been enquiring. Sitting with her back straighter than an ironing board, she casually took a sip. She lifted her eyebrows to her sister to carry on speaking.

"So what's the plan? Baby names? Nursery plan? Birthing schedule? Who, what, where, when?"

She gestured towards her, animatedly dashing her hands in synch with her bullet points. Tessa's mouth forms an 'O', slowly processing how little she's planned already. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed that she hasn't properly discussed this with her fiancé. They've discussed lots already but nothing definite, no concrete answers. He's given her plenty of unexpected first impressions and interesting responses to everything so far, after all he was first to know. First to embrace her. First to calm her nerves. First to tell her he loved her - after such big news. Although he was/is certainly rough around the edges, Tessa can't deny that he is the kind of man she pictured herself with for all her life. Career motivated, workaholic, organised. Sips an earl grey every morning, in his tie and crisp suit. Athletic but not too athletic but still a good gym partner. Regularly participates in black tie events. Can grow a beard (not that she ever wants him too). Everything reminded her of _not_ Scott. Therefore that is what she has conditioned herself (with help from others) into believing that that is what she wants.

"Um...well nothing is exact yet, I'm barely past 2 months," she nervously laughed, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea brush over her. "But what we do know for certain is -". The back door swung open, revealing three drunk brothers, one being pulled along in the middle with the other two flanking.

"Oh Danny!" His wife exclaimed, standing up from the table to give him her seat. Alma took the tea towel besides her (doused in prosecco thanks to Jordan) and shoved it in his face, covering his bloody nose. His shooed her motherly hands away and wiped himself up, receiving a, " _What_ on earth happened!?" The other two men walked, slugged, their way through the kitchen. The elder sitting on the counter and stating "Hockey puck," and making the sound effects needed to demonstrate the object hitting him in the nose. The other brushed off the snow on his shoulders and situated himself behind the nervous lady, quickly to calm her.

"Anyway before you disturbed us, you were saying...?"

The war victim's wife seemed more interested in the lady across the table than her bleeding husband. Scott placed both hands on her shoulders and gave her a squeeze, releasing the tension he could feel under her thick coat and jackets.

"Oh yeah, um..." Once again lost for words, she tucked that stray hair from her forehead to behind her ear. She fiddled with her mug, searching for what to say. His fingers move up closer to her neck and as she sighed heavily into his touch, he knew he hit the spot.

"So baby's due end of July so we'll be living with baby in Montreal," She watched as everyone from her mother to her long term skating partner/shorter term whatever's cousins raise an eyebrow and wrinkle their brow at her decision. Only Scott didn't seem fazed. Probably due to him too living in Montreal, 15 minuets away from her so seeing hers and whoever's baby whenever was a short drive away.  
"And apart from that, no baby names yet, no birth plan yet-"  
"-but you'll be coming to have the baby in London? Right?"

Tessa winced a little, not knowing how to let them down easily. She shook her head, watching as her sister sulks. Every single virtue has been born and raised in London, Ontario; she'll be the first to end it.  
"Well, it's only customary to name your first daughter after me!" Carol raised her hands in protest, followed by Danny hastily throwing in, "-and because I'm your favourite Moir, the son can be named after me!"

She watched as the table began so bicker over naming her unborn child. ' _No, she can't name the baby Sherrie, it reminds me of the drink,_ '. ' _Jordan. Is. A. Unisex. Name!_ ' She felt the light giggles from Scott who was yet to interrupt the conversation. Placing her hand on top of his, he swooped down to peck her cheek. His cold nose burning into her skin. She let out a yelp, giggling and moving in her seat as his stone cold face nuzzled into her, finding his spot under her (his) loose scarf.

His cold nose trails back up to her cheek, pressing his lips to her warm face, whispering in his raspy voice he only gets from drinking moonshine, "so baby names, huh?". Something within Tessa went off. Sure she's imagined a couple of times, ever since she was a little girl, what her issue would be named; if they take the father's surname, take her middle name, her mother's first name. The idea of one day being able to discuss baby names with the man by her side for the last 25 years was a fantasy she refused to imagine - to save her from the heart break. But the realisation that _yes_ , it could happen, excited her.

Her small giggle didn't go unnoticed. While their moment felt private, it drew the attention of everyone in the room. Although no eye contact was made, both knew everyone was looking at them. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. A sense of guilt and shame overcame her, including the nausea she so desperately tried to ignore from earlier. Standing up, she excused herself from the crowded room. A small call of her name being by the familiar voice made her dash quicker to the bathroom.

Kneeling, she waited for the episode to begin. Like a prisoner on the executioners block, anticipating the first blow. She awaited the moment she'll have to grip the sides of the seat to keep her from tipping over in her dizzy state. The moment her hair slowly begins to curtain her line of vision. The moment her back will be soothed by the love of her life; still yet to ever come. And so it starts, never pretty, never graceful, never elegant. One. Two. Three times. On and on. How one person, with so little inside their stomach produce so much? But it's not just one person - rather two. A little, defenceless person growing inside another little, defenceless person.

  
Dabbing her now cold nose, pushing back the tears that slowly brimmed at her eyelashes, she now awaited the waterfall that always seemed to follow. In the dark bathroom, on the cold tiled floor, in her second home, on what seems to be an almost perfect New Years, she allows herself to sob. Just this once. She cleaned herself up, completely removing the mascara thanks to the streaks it created. Ignoring the muffled commotion she could still hear from the kitchen a few rooms over, she practices the breathing exercises her therapist taught her at 14. _She didn't need a partner to calm her_. She was just as strong without as she was with. She is brought out of her trance with a knock at the door. Entering was a small Alma, reluctant to speak up or interfere. Tessa watched in the mirror as the older lady approached solemnly, and hugged her from behind. With her forehead resting between her shoulders and with their hands joined at her stomach, Tessa latches onto her. The jolts of her body asking to let her cry out again, made her watch as the tears began to fall again.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry if this is his, Alma. I'm so sorry,"

She gripped tighter onto her clasped hands, like a lifeline. Feeling and watching the reflection of her second mother nod against her back and let out a strangled, "I know baby, I know you are. But it'll be okay,". She felt her tears pour heavier, stronger, faster. Her mouth dry, her guilt suffocating, her pride gone.

...

"Oh there you are! Come introduce us Tess,"

The bright lights of the kitchen blinded her in contrast to the dimmer bathroom. She rubbed over her eyes once more, ensuring there wasn't a single tear on show. Upon her arrival, a new addition to the room went unnoticed; a tall, strapping man. With golden locks, the perfect length. Taller than the tallest person in the room. Dressed impeccably in a suit underneath his expensive, pristine coat. Broad shoulders, sharp jawline, big hands. Beautiful blue eyes you can get lost in, like the ocean. His gaze and conversation moved from a Moir wife at the kitchen door over to her. Smiling. Taking the jarring steps towards her, listening to the sweet click of his heals under the tiled floor as his hand came to her waist, placing a cold kiss on her cheek.

"James! You're here already," she gave a smile. She ruffled around in her coat pocket, slipping her engagement band back on before he notices the absence. He searched her face with his incredible eyes, darkening by the second. His knife-like figure towering a head taller than her, placed the back of his palm on her forehead. If he was searching for why her eyes were red, her cheeks puffy, her eyeliner non existent, he'll have to get the answer later.

"And I see you've met my family?" She gestured towards the Moirs. He replied with a small laugh, "Not formally yet. Do you mind?" She smiled, only breaking contact to search the room for the first introduction. Directing him over to the closest person to her, she presented her hand. "This is my...Caroline and Alma Moir,"  
"Oh yes, I've heard all about you," he shook their hands, placing a kiss on their cheeks. The former gave a small giggle at the gesture, raising her eyebrows as he does the same to her sister.

She walked further into the room to introduce Danny, who conveniently no longer bore a bloody towel yet still a bloody nose. Showing off his dominance in form of a hockey injury. She watched as the corners of her Fiancé's eyes wrinkle and hand whiten. He gave a nod and the same happened with the other Moir brother. She then introduced him to all the Moir wives and cousins, struggling to not get their names mixed up as she often does.

Spinning on her heel, she searches the room for anyone else she hasn't introduced. He eyes lock onto Scott, who hasn't taken his eyes off her since she joined. Before she could say anything, to attempt to relive the awkward tension between the two men she was sandwiched between, the voice behind her spoke up.

"Scott,"  
" _James_ ,"  
"Good to see you're well."

Neither of their tones were particularly friendly, borderline spiteful. He gave a nod, biting his tongue to not say anything he regrets. She looked between the two, noticing the fire slowly burning in both sets of eyes. Their shoulders squared. Their breathing ragged. She took his hands and led him away. As soon as his gaze was averted, his calm, silky eyes returned. He face softened and asked, "So are we off?" His hand resting on her hip.

"Oh already?" Alma cried, clasping her hands together. The atmosphere in the room was indescribable, unreadable to most. Filled with tension and anxiety, wrapped in a layer of awkwardness and with a bow of anticipation on the top.

"Oh I can take you back later than planned if you want,"  
"No no, I'm exhausted anyway. You go keep the car running, I'll be there in a moment," she squeezed his hand on her hip. He nodded, bidding adieu to his new acquaintances and leaving through the kitchen door.

Almost as soon as he left, a collectively loud sigh was orchestrated. A perfect forth in harmony. She raised her eyebrows at the multiple adults in the room, almost mistaking them for children with their response, waiting for an explanation. Eventually Charlie coughed up,

"Don't like him Tess,"  
"I don't need you to like him, I need you to tolerate him,"

She bit back, slowly loosing her composure. She knew they wouldn't like him. He's what they would call 'stuck up'. Just because he never learnt to hunt or ride a quad bike, nor chug a gallon of beer down in one go like every other Moir. He's not a Moir and she doesn't want him to be. She doesn't want to carry the Moir name, doesn't want to be a Moir daughter, live in a Moir house. Yet she does. And yet they sill look at her as if she misplaced her fiancé and picked up the next best thing off the shelf. She worked for this relationship, and by God she wasn't going to let family, which aren't even her own blood, mix up her life anymore than they have already.

Just as she began to bid her farewells, Joe and Paul entered, missing the whole drama. Their eyebrows raised at their wives, waiting for an explanation for the tense mood and early goodbye from their favourite adopted daughter/niece.

One by one, promising she'll drop in one last time to the Moir household, she tallied up birthdays, parties and future engagements that she'd have to fit in while in London. Unable to register when she'll next be back in Ilderton or London within the next 3 months, she shook her shoulders at every, ' _you'll be back for (insert Moir get together)_ '.

"Oh and Charlie, because I love you profusely, I've arranged for you and James to spend Lunch together. This Tuesday -"  
"- but I have a shift!"  
"No you don't, Nicole let me know your timetable earlier,"

She gave a nod to the older woman who was shrugging her shoulders at her husband. All the other men, who she could assume collectively hated her fiancé, laughed. Turning back around to the rest of the men, popping the buttons on her coat and wrapping her scarf tightly around her neck like a noose, she looked them each in their eyes.

"Oh and if you think the rest of you boys are excused, you must be mistaken. I'll text you all the time and address. Don't be late."

...

"I like them,"  
"No you don't, don't lie,"

She rubbed small circles into the side of her forehead, resting her cloaked elbow on the side of the car. He drove slowly, the roads were quiet yet the heavy storm prevented anything more than 3 mph. His tall Land Rover, climbed each mound of snow that began to pile. The old lampposts flickered as they drove past. The hollers of grown men playing hockey could be heard, waving as they were split like the Red Sea while they drove past. He began to pick up speed, slowly applying pressure from his black leather shoed foot to the accelerator. They eventually made it to the main road where they were on a well gritted surface with to-bright lights, still crawling their way back to northwest London.

"Well you love them like your own-"  
"-and they are,"  
"And I shall too, one day."

She let out a heavy sigh, looking at the man at the steering wheel. The sudden urge of guilt hit her guts. She had cheated. Even if it was one (multiplied by x, x being greater than ten) slip up, which she vowed wouldn't happen again, it was still a violation of the sanctity of a relationship. Sure, what's happened, happened. But the realisation that he will become her husband, and potentially not be the father of their child made her stomach churn. He was a good man. A good, honest man. He buys her mother flowers every time he visits. He buys Jordan's children presents and gifts every time he sees them. He invites her father to dinner evey time he's in town. Although they've been together for less than a year and been in London less times than she'd prefer, he makes an effort to know her. He still surprises her with a home cooked meal after a long days work. He carries her bags when she goes shopping with Kaitlyn and her fiancé. He picks up the dry cleaning, deals with the bills and taxes, pays the cleaners, takes her lunch while she's working, and dances around the kitchen with her after a stressful Skype session. He does anything and everything for her and she repays him by sleeping with her 25 years plus skating partner. Although she once dreamed that she and Scott could have a fairytale ending, she now dreamed of it with this man.

He wasn't a villain Scott makes him out to be. She dreads talking to Scott about him as she knows his reaction. Seeing his anger, his jealousy, spark out at her has created such a fear and depression within her. She cried to him about moving in with her now fiancé because she knew how hostile and angry he would get; how it could destroy their relationship. She cried to him about the proposal because she knew how much he hates him and how he would do anything to tell her not to say 'I do' to him. She cried about the pregnancy because she knew (or rather didn't know) that she couldn't figure out who the father was. How do you tell the two men you love so much, in such different ways, that either of them could be the father. Before she could yell out that she wants a paternity test and confess to infidelity, he takes her out of her head.

"I'm looking forward to having dinner with them. I'll reserve the nicest restaurant in London, and I'll pay for it all myself. I'll give them all the best! I want to know everything about them: their favourite hockey players, what grades their children are in, when they want to come up and see our new, beautiful house that we're going to create together,"

He reaches over and takes her hand that rests on her lap, giving it a squeeze.

"I want them _all_ at the wedding, the whole clan!"

She lets out a small laugh, blocked by the sob that was hiding in her throat.

"You'll have to cater for an extra five hundred,"  
"And I'll happily do that!"  
His over exaggerated smile caught her eye, forcing her to look back at him as they sit still on the driveway of her house. The keys in the ignition removed and placed on the dashboard. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing each crook of her knuckle. Grazing over the large engagement ring that mimicked the snowfall from outside.

"I'll do anything for you. You could wrong me and I'll still see you as the same beauty I first laid my eyes upon all those years ago. Your family's mine too, and mine yours. Anything for our baby,"

He leant over the centre console and kissed he end of her nose. She closed her eyes and leant in further, yearning for the connection of their lips. Her lips were relentless and desperate, asking for more and more. Her pregnancy hormones were far too strong for her to resist. Her fidgeting hands gripped down on his lapels of the coat, pulling him further in. His hands wandered to the small of her back and to her nape of her neck, not quite as desperate for her as she was for him. Yes they've kissed plenty of times and are quite good at it, no she doesn't get the same butterflies she gets with Scott but she blames that to a) being in a committed relationship with this man and b) not having the thrill of being caught unlawfully with him.

She climbed over the centre console, onto his lap. Straddling him, he pulls away studying her with her deep blue eyes.

"Tessa, you know we don't do it like this," she began to undo the buttons of his trousers, fighting and pulling at the damn fabric. She slid her black tights down, pushing her unsexy underwear, with her sanitary pad attached thanks to the spotting, to the side

"New year, new us," she murmured, biting down on the pulse of his neck. The need and want to not have vanilla sex with him outweighed his protests against never having it in the car, kitchen, living room, bathroom etc. Basically only the bedroom for him. And she was nothing like that. Always favouring excitement over routine in her sex life. He never let her be top, never let her come first (never more than once at best), and certainly never did it while partially clothed. She had unbuttoned her coat and unzipped the roots jacket, swiftly pushing it behind the curtain of her black pea coat to hide it. She let herself guide his hand to her chest. Feeling the sensitive and slightly growing chest, she watched as she saw his decision change.

He complied, letting his own urges to take her there and then outweigh his predetermined restrictions he set ten months ago. Just before she could take him in one go, he spoke up.

"But what about the doctor?"

She bit her lip too hard, causing blood to secrete. She was too far into this to stop. Even without foreplay, she was wet enough and for her to stop because of what the doctor recommended a week as a half ago would result in a serious case of blue balls, for both of them. And surely that's worse than having sex at the 11 days mark and not the 14 that was recommended.

"It'll be fine," she hummed into his kiss. Tongues furiously fighting. Finally giving the go-to to continue, she sank down. Her breathless moan filling the silent car. His fingers gripping onto her hips, resisting the urge to buck back up at her. Hers interlocked in his long hair that she insisted for him to not cut. Just the right length for her to pull and pull at. She continued slowly rising and falling, feeling her hips begin to bruise from his grasp.

Slowly she sped up, moaning louder and louder into his kisses that attacked her neck. She began to feel the wave of her orgasm approach once he latched onto her favourite spot on her neck. The one reserved for Scott; and if she close her eyes and imagined a 5"10, brunette with perfectly sized hands for hers, hockey jerseys and jeans, early morning coffee at a cold rink, 35 years old or 35 minutes prior, it only helped her orgasm. And at the end of the day, two orgasms is still better than one from her fiancé.

Chanting a _yes_ as he sucked down on her collar bone, Scott's scarf discarded time ago, she let tears cloud her closed eyes slowly besieging her. Once her moans of her orgasm played out, it was swiftly followed by her, blond haired, 6"1, suit and tie, black tea, 44 years old, fiancé's climax.

Through her heavy breaths and his slowly focussing eyes, the snow began to settle outside. She's brought of of her thoughts by his hand, cupping the apples of her cheeks, bushing away her unrelenting tears. His eyebrows furrowed, asking, "darling, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, kissing him weakly yet at the same time firmly, still with him sitting inside her. Unable to form a coherent sentence, she whispered what she wished she could say to the only person she has ever longed to have as her own; what she wished she could whisper after they did such an act; to who she could only wish was underneath and inside her at this very moment.

"I just love you so, so much,"

And to make any guilt of hers gain significant expenditure, his voice of validation confirms how deep she's in this double lie.

"I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo ya ur welcome for that turn of events. Let me know what you think of this chap right here, ya, na? Get ready for the build up of angst (trademarked). All kudos and comments are much appreciated, thank youuuuu


	4. Chapter 4

"I neither regret nor welcome such a history, I’m not ashamed though,”

 

...

 

"So Jim, tell us about yourself?" Danny clasped his hands together before reaching for the expensive glass of wine. All the Moirs and Virtue were deliberately late, as comedic as it was to them as it wasn’t to the new addition to the family. By the reaction to his new nickname, Danny smiled, knowing it was a way to get under his skin. He gave an awkward laugh and looked him dead in the eye. "It's James, thank you," before looking around at the rest of the table to flaunt his history. 

"Born here in Montreal but raised in Bordeaux, France. Went to high school in Switzerland. Got my bachelor from Oxford and my masters and PhD from McGill...and now I'm a banker in Montreal." He stopped to take a sip of wine, watching as Joe takes a big gulp of beer, his face of disgust masked behind his media-face. Just as he was to continue, Danny interrupts him again. 

"No, like tell us about you. Not your achievements. Who's the guy that's marrying our little Tess?" A slight hint of detest on the end of his sentence could be smelt by everyone.

"I...um, where on earth would I start?" He ran a hand through his hair. "I'd rather get to know you Charles,"  
"Danny; ok let's see..."

He sat back, looking around animatedly for a response, knowing full well he knew what he was going to say. 

"For one I don't support a corrupt business. I like good honest pay. I don't spend thousands on new suits that I'd only wear once. I haven't been quoted for saying misogynistic slurs in the newspaper. I'm not 11 years older than my wife. I don't have a mother that talks trash to and about my wife. And I haven't been engaged 4 times before my wife,"

There's a silence that follows, a lingering tension. He adjusts the cufflink on his sleeve that costs more than the other 6 would dare spend. 3 waiters attend the silent table, presenting their main course. All of which cost too much money, had too little on the plate, and was certainly not worth the awkward tension. The two gladiators stare each other down, refusing to give in and end the fight. That was until he spoke up, hoping to make the younger man stand down.

"Well, we certainly are different people - Daniel is it? But I do appreciate your efforts to research me via the tabloids,"

He gave a snark grin at the younger chap, reaching for his serviette and placing it on his lap. Eventually the table began to eat away in silence. Most of the men deliberately ordering the most expensive main course and drinks possible in order to bite back. Of course he's paying for it so why not rack up the bill? Halfway through, Joe spoke up, not too keen on the ratatouille he picked at. 

"So I heard you and Tess are moving in together,"  
"Oh yes, you're all more than welcome to drop by whenever. We've arranged it so the move is in late February,"  
"Well I'm sure me and the boys can come and help out!"  
"Any help would be appreciated. Don't want Tessa overworking herself like she always does,"

They laugh, mutually agreeing not to let a 4 plus month pregnant woman stress her way though moving day. The bulk of it would have to happen while she was in Montreal however with her contract with CBC, she was expected to travel and commentate this season of ice dance. Before she found out she was pregnant. Her biggest issue was coming up with an excuse to the media as to why they either haven't seen her body below her neck for X amount of months or why she can't make it to shows and magazine covers like she could the year before. Of course there were a few pictures of her and James out and about; grocery shopping, dining, looking for a house together. But never did she attend a black tie event of his and never did he attend a red carpet event of hers. Their mutual agreement to not cross their work and personal lives worked out best. It's not like the media didn't know she was in a relationship with him - the evidence is there already. It's more along the fact that she hasn't announced her engagement nor pregnancy. She doesn't plan on announcing anything until she's particularly large, doesn't plan on going on interviews or talk shows until August, doesn't plan on uploading wedding pictures. She doesn't need the world to see every personal milestone of hers and if she's seen in the latest issue of her and a little child toddling about with a big nose and chocolate brown hair and hazel eyes, then she will reply to it as calmly and reluctantly as possible; not to release to much information. After all, the media has gotten enough out of her for the last 20 years. 

However with the way everything is planned out, no doubt will she need time off. She can't skate past three months; well Scott won't let her skate past then, terrified something could happen so she'll push her luck for as long as possible. It'll be her first year where she doesn't make it to Starts On Ice, and the first year Scott can't skate it. It had always been a fear of theirs, that one day they'll have to stop because there's no way a 7 month pregnant women can skate about in group numbers or perform risky business in front of a crowd with a bump in front of her. It was agreed that when Scott has children, they would still be able to skate but it would have to stop if she ever decided on it. But then again, she didn't really decide to get pregnant, with or without the help of her “partner”.

Whenever the conversation came up, it differed between person to person. Marina had long retired by the time she had Fedore. Meryl planned her two children so she could still tour and skate in the spring and summer. Tanith no longer skated with her partner or toured about by the time she was married to Charlie. And well, Marie-France and Patrice were together when they had Billie-rose so they both took time away from the ice. In all situations, neither partner seemed to hold the other partner back from the ice. Sure they were stiff by the time they came back but nothing detrimental. To them or their relationship with their partner. It was either they skated together and seemed to have a child together or they married other people and worked around their schedules for the other person. This only made Tessa feel more and more guilty that she was being selfish. The idea of an abortion certainly crossed her mind more times than what could be considered healthy. And if she was perfectly honest, it was still an option she was considering until she saw the reactions from her second family. Not her future mother in law and not her biological mother's opinions could sway her once she saw how the Moirs reacted. No judgement. No fear. No resentment.

"We go about flipping houses in our spare time, don't we? So we're quite experienced with getting a house up and running fairly quick. Where to is it?"  
"Oh it's in Westmount. The proximity to Gadbois was priority to be honest. Tessa wouldn't agree to looking at any house that was a 30 minute drive away. 5 minute walk to the Dubreuil-Lauzon house hold too so you can probably tell that the whole house screams Tessa,"  
"Westmount?”

Paul coughs up his beer he was currently chugging. He watched as both Kevin and Casey's eyebrows reach up to their hairlines. Danny and Charlie's scoffs don't go unnoticed but go ignored. Smiling, James replied with a boastful,

"Oh yes, lovely neighbourhood. I payed the deposit few weeks ago, house is technically ours already thanks to the papers. It's just finding time to move in,"

Paul swallowed hard, his mouth felt very dry. He took another sip before asking cautiously, "...and it'll be payed for equally, I assume?"

Without a moment of doubt to linger in the air, James was quick to replying, with so much yet so little time for him to talk about this house he oh so loved. 

"Not entirely, after all I am the breadwinner. My father's lent me the majority of the down payment as an early wedding gift. We're not struggling for money after all, I just want her to be able to keep up her regular spending habits and not worry about a roof over her head,"  
"Or who her fiancé is sleeping with," Danny muttered, reviving a glare from the talkative man. If looks could kill. 

The two men discus plans for constructing a shed for the back garden and the work needed for the 3rd floor. Joe was keen on helping wallpaper and paint the walls, it was always his job after all. Paul, of course, was more hands on, offering to help with the supposed chimney problem the house seems to have, along with advising on how to insulate the garage extension on the side of the house. James felt by the end of the dinner that he had won over two of the 4 new men. His fiancées brothers were another subject. They were similar to the Moir brothers however he met them much sooner into their relationship. Meeting them 3 months into dating their sister opposed to meeting them 10 months into "dating" their "sister" who is also his now fiancée and pregnant. He understood the aggression they held towards him but he was sure that they'll come around eventually.

As the time moved on, his phone began to vibrate more and more. Short bursts. Refusing to look down at it or answer the phone once it started calling, the older men gestures towards it, allowing him to get up and excuse himself from the table. Standing out of view, a nosey Danny listened in on the faint noise masked behind the clutter of knives and forks, chatter and smooth jazz. Eventually making out a, "I'm busy," and a "Don't do this to me," he nudged for his brother to eavesdrop with him. Their eyebrows raised and made a mental note to, "maybe later babe,". Confused at the pet name, they promised to remind one another to enquire further. Knowing full well Tessa’s broad use of nicknames that she acquired since she was 7. 

He came back, and apologised to his sudden need to depart, fulfilling his promise to pay the extremely large bill ("thank you, Moir(!)") and left the six of them to finish their meal. Kevin ordered the most expensive wine on the menu and placed it under the 'Baudelaire' tab. They toasted to humility and modesty, calling upon the gods to straighten out the stuck up attitudes of their little Tessa's fiancé. It wasn't long until designated driver Kevin Virtue had enough of sipping his water and begged for the men to finish up.

"Westmount? What kind of ass does he think he is?"  
"Talk about too much privilege,"  
"I think I somehow dread the wedding even more than I did before,"  
"Oh god. All his family will be there, in their channel jackets and Ascot hats sipping Bordeaux wine in their million dollars Bentleys,"

They laugh, mocking him. Danny placing a napkin under his chin to mimic his cravat while straightening his back and pretending to cut think air with his cutlery. In general, it was concluded that even though they all hate their guts, he seemed committed enough to stay with her for a while, the last thing they want is to lose Tessa so if tolerating their stuck up brother-in-law, then that's what they'll have to do. 

...

"It's me,"

Meanwhile, the front door opened. At first a creak until the increasing wind picked up the barrier and swung it aside. She dropped her bag by the door and slugged off her coat, leaving it in a pile. Crawling her way down the corridor and past the stairs, she made her way to the living room, following the faint noise of daytime television. Upon inspection, sat a Jordan Virtue, wrapped in layers of blankets and feet on coffee table. Layers of paper with crayon drawings lined the table. Layers of pain filled her heart. Crawling, like snail, earnestly to the lady in front, she collapsed into her embrace. Crawling into her side and hiding in the perfectly sized curve of her body, Tessa clinched her like her life depended on it. Taking a heavy breath, she asked all to quietly under the sound of the weather lady. 

"Where's the kids?"  
"Nap time, just put them down,"

She nodded, thankful her voice wasn't too loud. The last thing she needed was any loud noises or fusses. As much as she loves her niece and nephew, she doesn't have the will power to play exciting, bachelorette, Aunty who brings them amazing gifts and exciting bedtime stories when she sees them a few times a year. Instead, she just wants her big sister to make all her troubles disappear. To make matters somewhat better, their silence was interrupted by the only other woman who could do the same. She placed a mug of hot chocolate down on the table and cuddled up besides her newly entered daughter. She placed a kiss on her hair line, squeezing her tight and placing the blanket over all three of them.

"How was it love?"

Tessa reached for her hand under the covers and played with her fingers, just as she did 30 years before. Running her index over her mother's hard, rounded nails. Although not long, they were long enough for her to feel and smooth. She loved it when they were longer, reminding her of her teenage years when her mother always had long nails; when she was with her husband and three children, only ever seeing her when it suited her training schedule. 

She sighed, relaying all the information her doctor told her in the span of their fifteen minute appointment. 

"She said its hyperemesis gravidarum, so that explains a lot,". 

The longer she went on the closer Jordan held her and the harder her mother squeezed her hand. Hyperemesis gravidarum, or severe morning sickness, along with her spotting increasing only made her worries increase. Everyday that went by made her worry even more that she was being such a bad mother and hurting her child when in reality, there was nothing she could do but wait it out. Maybe she should have waited the full 14 days, and for good reason, but surely this couldn't have triggered anymore than it was before. 

She had gone through 4 packs of sanity pads in the last two weeks. She woke up one morning, three days after breaking the news to Scott, with legs covered in blood. He first thought was to the worst and darkest thought a mother could hold. Her sudden and loud wails disturbed both her sister and mother from their beds. Weeping uncontrollably into her mother's arms, hiding her eyes from her white, pristine bed now Crimson. While her sister examined how much damage was done to her surroundings, they helped her wash up, get dressed and into the car. After the whole morning spent in an all too white room, in an all too white bed, a midwife explained her situation and how it was nothing more than a tear in her uterus and that because she was asleep, the blood spread more than it seemed. She promised that she wouldn't have sex, that she would refrain from her vigorous workouts, and gain more weight: all of which she unfulfilled. She had sex. She ran 5 miles by 5 am everyday. She never kept a meal down long enough. She was a horrible mother.

"I don't want to go out," she replied to Jordan's offer to go get lunch from the new salad bar down on Main Street. "I don't want to go back to Montreal by myself,"  
"But you're not, baby,"  
"I am. James is off to China on the 6th for two weeks, and I have so much to sort about this new house,"  
"You don't need to leave tomorrow then, you're more than welcome to stay for a few more days. Scott's not there until the 19th,"

She nods, weighing all her options. Her diary running around a thousand miles an hour as she tries to catch all the dates. "Meryl's invited Scott and I to her party on the 7th, can I come back and stay a few more days?"

She nods to her, placing a kiss to her cold cheek, whispering confirmation, "Yes love,". She watched as her sister got out her own phone, going through apps to reschedule her flight, of course knowing all her passwords. She closes her eyes, falling too quickly into a slumber that she had been needing for the last two weeks. Listening to the hums of CBC's newest coverage of whatever sport was playing - the one with the loud shouting and timed uproars heard now and then, 'hockey', she concluded. She could hear the howl of the wind, obvious that a window had been slightly left ajar in the kitchen. 

She could feel the warmth of the two bodies sandwiching her on either sides; reminded of the simpler times when there were no babies or grandkids, where she had both mom and dad, where her brother's hadn't left home just yet, where she and Scott had a childhood romance that neither recognise until it had turned into something else. She was 15, he 16. Stupidly innocent with too much time, energy and no naivety to spare. She couldn't stop herself, nor him. She couldn't contain herself, nor him. She didn't regret it, nor him; and yet, here they were. On the precipice of insanity, repeating mistake after mistake that they refused to acknowledge. After all ‘Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.’; and although not entirely true, she knew through example, it help much more reliability than anything else she could quote at this given time. If she knew, almost 20 years later, they would relapse and repeat such an act, she wouldn't have made the leap in the first place. 

She was 15, he 16. They were on cloud 9, with not a care in the world. In a hotel room they had been in once before. Another win under their belts; 2004 North American Challenge Skate. Banished from her shared hotel room, she found his. "Sarah kicked me out," she said one night, walking into his room with Chiddy's key card. Passing him in the hallway, with him wrapped up in the arms of another girl, pairs discipline (?), unrecognisable, but could easily be from Canton. He threw her his card, knowing which direction she was off and what direction he was. Buzzing through on the first try, she throws it on the side board and falls onto the end of his bed. Looking up at her from the book he was reading (one she had recommended him), he places it on his chest, words down. "Sweet Sarah?" He exclaimed, watching her chest rise and fall, slowing down by the breath. 

Her eyes, tinted red, the corners of her eyes, wrinkled, her eleven lines showing. Deep in thought and frustration. Her hands clasped one another, resting on her abdomen as she plays with a hand nail that's bothered her since the original dance. Final time they'd perform their program and final time they'd skate officially under Suzanne. They spent the last 6 months slowly integrating into Canton, taking one Sunday a month or so to attend and get used to the rink before making the leap and staying with host families. 

Admittedly so, Tessa was excited or this new step but certainly wouldn't choose it over Waterloo. She had already built her friendship with few girls, but made the mature decision to not socialise with any of the ice dancers. She preferred the singles skaters over the others, largely because once they realised her and Scott weren’t dating, then the focus would shift from her to them.

"Sarah’s at it with Oliver again, so can I room here?”

And of course she was one to get any boy she wanted. One being a guy she met through Scott at the gym. Typical, dead black hair combed back. Shoulders too wide. Already a full face of facial hair. Only 14 years old. 

"Yeah sure. Chiddy's with Amber so...yeah I guess we've been pushed to the side lines tonight,"

'How on earth do they get away with it?' She wonders, pondering the where about of all the coaches and chaperones. Obviously looking over all the hormonal teenagers, getting off from a win and then end of a long season. She let out a big sigh, signalling her distress to Scott. Putting him book down on his bedside table and making a mental note of his page, he brought all his attention onto her. 

"What's wrong? Somethings up?" 

He tilts his head to the side, trying to see her visibly upset face. She lifted her hands up to examine her nails. Slightly longer than she usually likes, but long enough for her to reminisce her mother's hands; any reminder of home was both a happy and sad experience. He pushed himself up on the bed, crossing his legs and sitting up from the head board. By his logic, if he stared long and hard enough then she'd either spill her confessions or burn a hole through her. Thank god it wasn't the latter. 

"Nancy brought it up again and told the girls,"

She let out a heavily weighted sigh. Her hands dropping back to her abdomen and squeezing the red life from her hands. He looked at her, waiting for to expand. Sure he knew almost everything there was to know about the great Tessa Virtue, but he couldn't read her mind when she provided no context. She couldn’t seem to wait to go to canton, the teasing would stop then. He swished his hand about, motioning for her to carry on. Eyeing him in her peripheral, she let out another sigh. 

"About...you know," she gestured with her hands, waiting for him to pick up on the hints she laid for him. 

He raised both eyebrows at him, creating bridges of lines running across, supported by the stray hairs he had fall to his forehead. It's slowly getting longer, now the season has ended and summer has finally started. She motioned towards her torso and all the way down to her knees. 

He eventually thinks he gets it and gasps an "Ohhh" in response, not entirely getting what she was suggesting but letting her vent more.

"...and now all the girls think there's something wrong with me!"

She threw her hands around again, speaking animatedly as she does when embarrassed or stressed. Scott kept nodding, not quite understanding what her issue was. That was until she looked at him. Red, red eyes. Redder than they were before. The rivers of Crimson attacking her dainty, dark, green pupil. Suddenly the realisation that he didn't quite understand what she was upset about and lying to her that he understood erupted from him and let out, "T, what do you mean exactly?" 

She sighed, looking back at the ceiling and squeezing her palms together. "It doesn't matter,"  
"Tess,"  
"I said it's fine,"  
"Tessa," he said firmly. She looked around the room, at the empty bed next to his. At the open wardrobe with shirts and jackets hung up. At the wooden floorboards where her shoes and everyone else's. She looked at her pale pink pleated dress that Jordan got her from Paris in February. She looked at his grey shorts and red t-shirt that screamed "CANADA!". Everywhere but his hazel eyes.

"She told them I haven't lost it and they're teasing me now," She spoke to quickly. Tongue falling over itself and hoping it makes sense before she realises how much she's said. 

Sure she and Scott learnt about Sex-ed. Jordan gave hers when she was 13 and Danny gave his when he was 12. Both awkward and unnecessary. They didn't often talk about things like that. They new they had chemistry and a connection beyond their years. They could look into one another's eyes and pretend they've been together for a thousand life times for thousands of years. At first it made her Father almost had a heart attack at their first competition that they performed anything but a compulsory. They avoided talking about being each other's first everything. First proper skating partner, first proper win, first kiss, and first proper kiss. They were good at everything to do with the other but their recent introduction to therapy proposed tougher challenges. 'Don’t date!'. Their councillor advised after one heated session, ‘Nothing together that you do with other people!', they had it drilled further into their heads that there should be no romance off the ice. A simple peck on the cheek, too close to her lips at the end of a long practice was enough for the two coaches. Hoping Marina would be slightly more lenient, time would tell. 

"Why does that matter? I mean I haven't yet,"  
"What do you mean 'why does that matter?', didn't you hear me? They're teasing me because of it!"

She sat up, waving he arms about once again. Her long Auburn hair, half way down her back, place in a small hair tie at the end of her plait, swung as she did so. Bottling her knuckles up and fisting her dress, she suddenly changed, looking back at him. "Wait, what?" She asked, slowly realising the second part of his sentence. "But..."  
"Nope, never did. First wanted to wait till 4 months, next was a devoted Catholic, last we tried but failed," 

He counts on his long fingers, relaying the information to her as if it's obvious that she knew it. Her eyes grew wider. All preconceptions of him no longer being a virgin for the last year and a half flew out of the window. Before she could ask more, he's hesitant but quick to interrupt her objection.

"Tess...I know what we’ve been told and all and you certainly can say no and forget I asked, but..." He breaks eye contact with her, searching the room for the rest of his sentence. "But..." She pursues, wriggling her wrist, letting her elegant fingers flutter and spur on his small confession. 

"I mean, we're practically each other's...first. Of course you can say no, but a suggestion could be...why don't we just-“  
“Try it?"  
“Try it,”  
"Yes,”  
"Yes?"  
“Yes...?”  
“Yes.”

She giggled, he winked. She pushed, he pulled. She moved first, he second. 

Although most of Tessa’s teenaged thoughts has been leading to the moment she becomes a woman, she had been yearning more for the day Scott reciprocated mutual feelings. Her stupid nagging crush she had on him since the summer she was 13; when she first questioned that voice calling her to hold herself together; since the spring she was 11; when she kissed back, with no regrets; since the winter she was 9; when they stood shoulder to shoulder on the podium; since that cold Autumn morning where it became official at 7.

Overhearing the stories of the girls who had awkward firsts, Tessa knew no worry. When her lips first touched his, she felt no worries. When his eyes lit up, she saw no worries. When they lay on top of each other, she knew no worries.

His knuckles tugged through her knots that slowly gathered at the tips of her hair: hair tie discarded. He had been fascinated by her locks ever since he first saw her. Golden, yet ginger, yet chocolate. Different from every angle. Always past her shoulder, always light and fair, always smelling of sweet, innocent fruit. The smell of her perfume grounded him, the feel of her palms grounded him, the texture of her hair, grounded him. Always. With her back to him, fast asleep, he held onto his sanity through his senses. Smelling her on his sheets that stole his breath. Drawing lazy circles in her palm that he stole from her side. Fisting her auburn hair, that stole his pillow. The sheets ran up to her chin, wrapping around her. So closed off, so guarded. It was when his whispered her name, he knew he messed up. That it was his fault they did this. That he took advantage of her; he was the mature and older one in this situation after all. That if anything bad were to happen from this moment onwards, he should blame himself.

“T,”

His voice licked the stuffy, summer air, heavily weighing on the sheets. Her body, shivered. Hearing through the small cries from outside the room and ticks from the clock, he barely makes out her breath hitch. Calling for her again, softer, gentler than ever before. “Tessa?” Her body shivers once again, only this time it didn’t stop. Her shoulders began to shake. Gripping her palm tighter, he waits for her to come around, knowing full well she was conscious. Her free hand, cupping over her mouth, hiding her sob from him, failed once she crescendoed. “Tess,” only this time, she responded. Turning over, she rolled into his chest. Hugging his torso, discarding the sheet barrier she made. Gripping to him, her sobs were much louder, filling their quiet room. He held him. She held back. All he could do was grip back as hard as she was. Whispering quietly as he can, shushes of reassurance. 

Her face nuzzled neatly into the crook of his neck, she waited for her breathing to calm. Suddenly realising his breath was unsteady too, she took deep breaths for the both of them. Revisiting the same technique her therapist gave her a year prior; they synced. Letting the last of her tears fall, the last of the half moons mark his shoulder blades, the last hitched breath. She mumbled beyond recognition into his skin. Asking to repeat herself, she let out a deeper sigh than the one she subconsciously gave moments before. 

“I said I’ve ruined us,”  
“Oh Tess,”  
“I let this happen, we went against everything everyone’s told us,”  
“So what?”  
“This’ll break us, I can’t loose you Scott,”  
“Ok then...” he breathed heavily, weighing his instincts on the scale, judging how far he needed to go to put her at rest.

“This won’t happen again, I promise.”

And if she fell asleep better after that then moments prior, it was worth it to him. After all, he never wanted to hurt her. Now, in 3 more years, in 5, 20; till they’re grey and old, he never meant to hurt her. If that meant lying to her that her never let it happen again, then that’s what he did. 

Waking up to a small hand prodding her, she brought herself back to the real world. Holding an object the size of his head, offering it out as a peace offer, she lifted her blanket up for him. Noticing the disappearance of her older female figures in place of the little boy she knew as her nephew, she snuggled back into his little embrace. Rubbing over her dropping eyes, she opens the book he holds up to her face. “Oh darling, you want to read this?” He nodded back, sharing the same sluggish behaviour as her after his afternoon nap. Lying against her sternum, head on chest, he watched as she reopens the book and start at once on the first page. Her instinct of wrapping him closer in her took over, making her yearn for the moment she’ll have her own child to do this to every night. Reading the book as if it were to the set of cousins, born and unborn. 

As each page turned, she watched his little expression begin to fill his face. She thankfully was able to see him far more than her other nieces and nephews now that she was no longer competing but it still wasn’t enough. She noticed in her peripheral her mother setting down another mug of hot chocolate. The smell of the cinnamon candle burning, reminding her of her adult life. The sight of the fireplace dying, reminded her of childhood. The book she read, reminding her of everything few and far between.

“I love you right up to the moon...and back...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya b, so changed the name of the story sos if you liked it, enjoy! Kudos and comments are lovely and appreciated more than you’d imagine, tell all your SM friends! Let me know what you like, don’t liked, whatever! All feedback is useful to a noob like me!


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